


i'll stitch my wounds with dreams

by ssweet__dispositionn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, F/F, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Wanda is hurting, childhood reminiscence, issa revenge quest kind of, natasha is mentioned - Freeform, pietro deserved better, someone give wanda a hug, wanda is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 16:55:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssweet__dispositionn/pseuds/ssweet__dispositionn
Summary: Wanda Maximoff vows to get her revenge.





	i'll stitch my wounds with dreams

The church didn’t seem so idyllic anymore, not now. The first thing she saw when she felt it was the small, wooden cross hanging too inconspicuously a few paces in front of her. When she was little, she would try and jump to touch it when they all went to the services. He and her parents would laugh softly when she would inevitably fall a few inches short, ruffle her mousy brown hair and tell her “maybe next time,” with fond smiles. 

He would raise an arm to touch the base with ease when he knew that she was looking. It appeared childish to her, looking back. But, no matter how juvenile and silly she thought her past actions, she would give anything and everything to have her hair ruffled one more time.

It was as if something snapped inside her. She could feel, could physically feel, a sudden, unbearable change in reality. Not a rapid, simple cut. Rather, a jagged, complex fracture - leaving her with an overpowering, overwhelming sense of deep loss and pure anger. Her one beacon of light in this world has all but burned out. Forgetting her position, and the job at hand, she sank to her knees in anguish, eyes screwed shut but mouth wide open in a silent scream. Tendrils of red whirled around her, the grief in her subconsciously creating a circular blast of power, the blaze knocking all the metal frames within a mile to something further than hell. 

She inhaled deeply, wishing rather bleakly, that her lungs would fill with tar so she could be free of this burden and join him, wherever he was now. She seemed to tremble as she forced her eyes open, seeing the desolate, panic riddled city of Sokovia that she once called her home, as if for the first time. She placed a slender hand on the dusty, chalky floor. Her rings gently collided with the surface, creating a small sound that faintly resembled when a glass is put down at a cafe, and the noise seems to slice through you. She could count the number of times she’d been to a cafe on one hand. 

She unsteadily pushed herself up. Now standing, the very fabric of time appeared to slow down as she stumbled away from her position. She was unstirred by the heaps of defunct metal, stepping over them with no goal in mind. Nothing in her mind except him. 

She didn’t realise she was crying until a wave of dust drifted at her, sticking to the still glistening tear tracks on her cheeks. It was then that she was somehow glad Natasha couldn’t see her like this. She allowed herself a small, sad smile, at the thought of the girl; was she okay? Was she on the ship with the others? She’d lost so much. She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost her too. God, she was a mess. She instantly chastised herself as she felt fresh tears looming. But now was not the time for such thoughts, nor self pity. She slowly blinked, trying to stop any more tears from escaping. 

She tilted her head to the sky for some sort of guidance, relieved that she found a small amount of comfort from feeling the sun on her face. She used to do it all the time as a child, especially when something went wrong. Pietro would tease her mercilessly for her tendency to do so, he’d look to the sky and ‘plead’ for whatever nonsense sprang to his mind, using that stupid mocking tone of voice. She never knew how he got it so damn accurate. She never will.

It was at this precise moment that a haze of metal came streaming through the sky, hurtling gracelessly at an alarming speed. Her eyes flashed red as she realised whom, or rather, what it was.

Shivering with rage, she started to move with a purpose in her mind, feeling its presence as she stalked towards her goal. She stepped into yet another devastated street, and over more mountains of rubble. She turned a corner and her eyes locked onto a discarded subway carriage, only a couple of metres away from her. Her hatred for this thing, this creature rose up, unadulterated fury burning in her veins and she knew, she knew that it was the cause of her torment. 

Red swirling in her right hand, she pushed and pulled with the power, concentrating on the movements her hand was making. The broken windows and ripped leather seats seemed fitting as she saw Ultron slumped on the floor, resting on a pile of scrap metal against the dismal grey, chipped wall.

She crouched down to his eyeline, opening her mouth to release an onslaught of outrage; for her city, for the people, for Pietro. For herself. But, she found the words were unwilling to come out. She was so overcome with emotion that she just stopped.

“Wanda… If you stay here, you’ll die.” Ultron sounded, with what seemed to be a tone of care and possible regret in his voice. Angry indignation flared up in her again, he had no right to care, or even pretend to, anymore. Not after all he’s done, all he’s caused.

“I just did.” She spat, with as much venom and bitterness that she could muster. “Do you know how it felt?” Her eyes flashed red as she instantaneously focused all her anger, her pain, on her power. Her hand quivered as she reaped the mechanical heart from Ultron’s vibranium cage. The structure felt strange and unfamiliar in her hand as she fixed her cold gaze on it. She drew in a harsh breath and made sure to look him in the eye as she spoke, “It felt like that.”

-

She felt her necklaces start to rise up, breaking free from their previous resting place. She, herself, started to be pulled up by the change in the air pressure, and she was struck by her own utter passiveness in that she knew what was about to happen to her, but couldn’t find it in her heart to care anymore. Her necklaces were now eye level and her hair twisted and whipped around her. She felt her feet leave the ground, and she didn’t fight it, the sensation of being weightless rather freeing as Sokovia rapidly fell to its imminent destruction, her with it. Her whole body started to tilt backwards, not unlike the seesaws her and Pietro would ride when they were young, before the bombs dropped. Such a strange thing to think about at this exact moment, but she realises it has some significance; it was probably the last time she was, and ever will be, happy.

**Author's Note:**

> whoop wee this is my first ever avengers piece... 
> 
> i'm aware this is very much revolved around wanda, i was originally gonna make this more wandanat centric and (somehow????) make natasha save wanda at the end but as i wrote it just didn't feel right. i might continue this, but change a few things along the way! we'll see.
> 
> hope this didn't suck too much, and thanks for reading! comments are very appreciated!


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